"Dear Matilda, do not make a mock of my kindness. The Protector’s patience is worn out with this foolish animosity. He is generous and merciful to no purpose. I myself think it is high time he ceased to warn, and begin to punish. And poor Lady Rich! It would grieve you to the heart to see her despair. She has only been three months married, and it was such a true love match." "Indeed it was a very ’good’ match, love match or not. Frances Cromwell to be Countess of Warwick. Faith, ’tis most easy to fall in love with that state!" "She might have chosen far greater state; you know it, Matilda. She was sought by Charles Stuart, and by the Duke Enghien, and the Duke of Buckingham, and by the Protector’s ward, William Dutton, the richest young man in England; but for love of Mr. Rich, and in spite of her father’s long opposition, she would marry no one else." "Mr. Rich was good enough for her, surely!" "Her father did not think so. There were reports of his drinking and gaming." "And the Puritan Dove must not, of course, marry a man who threw dice or drained a glass. Those are the works of the profane and wicked malignants. However was the marriage made at all?" "You know all about it, Matilda. What is the use of pretending ignorance?" "My dear sweet Jane, do you think I keep the Cromwell girls and their affairs in my memory? They are in their kingdom now; I do not pretend to keep foot with them—and I have troubles of my own; pray God they be not too many for me!" It was evident Matilda was not in an amiable mood, and Jane having said the few words that brought her to Jevery House that morning, left her friend. She went away with a troubled look, and Matilda watched the change and smiled to herself at it. "I am quite content to have her made a little unhappy," she thought; "her constant air of satisfaction is insufferable. And if my Lady Rich loses her husband, Jane can assure her that such griefs do not kill. On my honour! Jane looks younger and prettier than when Neville was alive and worrying her. Lovers die and husbands die, and ’tis a common calamity; and better people than either Jane or Frances have endured it. I will go now to my aunt’s parlour; I dare say she will have some visitor chock full of the new plot—and I may hear something worth while." These thoughts filled her mind as she went to Lady Jevery’s parlour. She found there an acquaintance whom they had known in Paris, the Countess Gervais. "I have but now sent a messenger for you, Matilda," said Lady Jevery; "the Countess desired greatly to see you." Then the conversation became reminiscent, and the new plot was not named, and Matilda began to be bored. Suddenly, however, her interest was roused to the highest pitch, for the Countess, touching a bracelet which Lady Jevery wore, said,